


Footnote

by wynnebat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Unrequited Love, Yule Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3977707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnebat/pseuds/wynnebat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy won't settle for being a footnote in Draco's love life, not when she can be a whole book in someone else's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Footnote

**Author's Note:**

> Repost of a old fic. I haven't actually bothered to reread/rewatch the Yule Ball scene in GoF, so I'm just working on shaky memory and random fudgery.
> 
> Mentions of sexism, homophobia, and adultery.

It is the evening of the Yule Ball. Couples are dancing in the center of the room—Krum and Granger look particularly fine, Pansy thinks with a sigh—and she is standing to the side, in the section of the forgotten dates. Draco vanished quickly, off to hector Potter and Weasley before they even got the chance to dance. He probably thinks he's being clever, avoiding her so easily, she thinks with a sniffle.

She's too proud to trudge back to the Slytherin dormitory, past all the sneering and gossiping girls in the common room who didn't get dates, past all the underclassmen who would love to see her fall. She is a Parkinson, but more importantly, she is Pansy, and she won't allow herself to cry.

There's movement in the corner of her vision, and she turns to see a Gryffindor boy hand her a cloth napkin. "It's okay," Longbottom says, too kindly.

She knows for a fact he knows who she is; she's insulted him often enough, his desk being right across the aisle from hers in Potions. (It's halfway justified; she's in direct range of Longbotton's possibly deadly accidents. But sometimes, she does it just because she's bored and the look on his face is amusing.) She wants to hex him, but she has a feeling her hands will shake if she goes for her wand. "I don't need your pity," she sneers instead. Her eyes have dried up, now that the anger has replaced the sadness, and she throws the napkin onto the floor.

Longbottom gulps, but like a good Gryffindor, he keeps going when he knows he's unwanted, saying, "I was ditched too. I mean. Ginny wanted to talk to her friends, and that's fine, but she's been gone for an hour..." Trying to be positive, he adds, "Though she might still come back."

It doesn't occur to Pansy to be kind when she responds with, "She won't," but Longbottom's world-weary look changes her mind just a bit. "Or maybe she will—" if she gets firmly rejected by Potter "—I don't know or care."

"Thanks," Longbottom says, even though Pansy didn't say anything to be thankful for.

As they transition back to silence, Pansy looks around, and Draco is still missing. He's probably in the gardens grown for the occasion, but Pansy is no mood to search for him, especially in heels. Ever since she first saw him at age five, her life has revolved around Draco like a moon and its planet, like a priestess and her god. But he is absent and uncaring, and Pansy is tired of looking like a fool, dancing for his affection when he has none to give her. She wants to be happy, and Draco so rarely makes her happy.

"D'you—do you—" Longbottom says, stumbling around his tongue like a child, "—want to dance?"

She's about to say no, but Longbottom looks so sincere. All she can do is think, what if it were Draco looking at her that way? If only it were him. But it isn't, it's Longbottom, a boy she doesn't even know, doesn't even want to know. "Why?" she asks instead.

Longbottom looks taken aback. "You're really pretty," he says shyly, looking at her from under his eyelashes. He's a couple centimeters shorter than her, but stockier. They'd make a terrible dancing couple. "And you haven't been... as bad as some Slytherins are to me. And you're still talking to me."

"I'd like to lead," Pansy says carefully, but all Longbottom does is nod enthusiastically. It's the ultimate disgrace to some, to be led around by a woman, but Longbottom would let her. She wonders what else he'd let her. What freedoms he'd give his wife. And that's when she shuts those thoughts down, because even if Longbottom is a pureblood, he's a Gryffindor and spineless and she could do so much better. (But not as good as Draco, she's learned.)

Before she can make a decision, she hears Draco's voice and spins around. He's right there, a couple meters away. He's walking back to their table, but shouting taunts at Potter and Weasley in the meantime. When she looks back at Longbottom, there's a rueful smile on his face.

"It's alright," he says. "I know you're here with Malfoy."

And he raises his glass toward her for luck, almost dropping it onto his dress robes as he does. It's been five minutes and Pansy feels a bit charmed. Not like she had when she'd first laid eyes on an adorable blond boy in periwinkle robes, less so, but still charmed. Still, she leaves and meets Draco halfway.

It's hard to even look at him; he's red faced but not from blushing at her comments, out of breath but not from kissing her, emotional but not because of her.

Draco huffs as he watches Potter and Weasley turn back, and turns slowly toward Pansy. His expression is resigned as he says, "Hullo, Pansy." His thoughts are on the two boys that are heading to the other side of the Great Hall, and he hasn't even commented on her refreshed makeup or apologized for the half hour he'd vanished. "Do you want to dance?" It's clear from his tone he'd rather take a bath in a cauldron of flesh-eating slugs.

"No," Pansy replies. She's never said the word to him before, not when he's offered something she's so badly wanted, and it causes him to startle. But if the cowardly Longbottom can say a few brave words, so can she. "I just want you to pay attention to me. I thought… You took me to the Yule Ball. I thought that meant something. But all you care about is Potter, as usual."

"Because everything has to about you all the time, right?" Draco drawls.

"Not all the other times. But today…" she trails off, soft and sad. "Today was supposed to be perfect." She'd spent hours on her makeup, and even longer shopping for dress robes over the summer. She'd guessed there would be some sort of fancy event, and hoped that it would be a ball. Because then, Draco would take her hand in his and ask her for her arm for the night, and he would bring her drinks and tell her she was lovely, and he would have eyes only for her. They would dance under the stars and he would tell her he loved her.

Draco groans. "How many times do I have to tell you I don't like you? Not like that, anyway. Look… do you want to just ditch this? We can hang out in the common room."

Pansy glares at him. "No. I don't care if you don't like me. I don't like you either right now. But you're going to dance with me just once, because this dress deserves a lot better than making the walls look nice." She reaches her hand out and he takes it, and it feels more meaningful than hugging him.

"Fine," Draco huffs.

"And then we can go back and play some chess."

He raises his eyebrow. "I thought you never wanted to play it again?"

"I got sick of trying to lose to you. This time, I'm going to win."

She leads him toward the middle of the dance floor, but lets him take control afterwards. Now that the first dance was over, all the other couples had overtaken the stage.

"If you like him so much, we can dance in the same spot Potter did," Pansy says, looping her arms around Draco's neck. Draco blushes, just a little, and her last hopes die. That isn't the blush of someone remembering how much he hated a person. She lays her head down on Draco's neck, trying to remember what it feels like not to love him, because she needs to learn.

"I wish I liked you," Draco says.

"I wish you did, too," Pansy replies. It would've been so much better than the alternative.

By chance, she's facing Longbottom, and he's watching them instead of Ginny and her partner. Not them--her, she thinks as he meets her eyes. Maybe it's because it's harder to be shy from far away, but he holds his gaze for much too long to be proper.

Pansy's gaze has never strayed from Draco, but now it's caught and she's finding it hard to let go. It's probably just the effect of the night, she tells herself, the one night when a loser can look like a prince.

But when the dance ends, it isn't Draco she's thinking of.

As begins to lead her toward the exit, arm in arm, she extracts herself and says, "I'll meet you in half an hour."

Draco shrugs. "I can beat you anytime."

She watches him leave, looking resplendent in his robes. Longbottom isn't nearly attractive, or capable, or rich. But then, she's not looking to marry him.

"You wanted a dance, Longbottom?" she asks as she strolls up to him.

Longbottom quickly takes her hand. "I didn't think you'd want to."

She doesn't take him to the middle of the room; she doesn't want attention, not for this. It feels personal, strange, uncomfortable. She never though she had this kind of capacity for kindness; in the back of her mind, she's trying to think of something this could give her, but she's coming up blank. The only reason she's here is an attempt to repay Longbottom's initial kindness to her. He couldn't have thought she'd react well to his napkin and his words, but he'd tried anyway.

Even this far away from the center, they aren't unnoticed as they begin to dance. People nearby stare at the sight—a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, but especially these specific ones, together without wanting to hex or insult another—but she doesn't care. (Or rather, she doesn't want to care, and it's almost the same thing.)

"If you step on my feet, I'll stomp on yours," she tells him. It's her first time leading, but she thinks she takes to it.

Longbottom only smiles crookedly. "I promise I'll step on the other couples instead."

"Good."

His hands are warm around her waist, bigger than Draco's and holding her very lightly. It's different. Nice. She feels so much happier than she had just an hour ago, when she was about to cry. Draco is a false god, and Longbottom is no god at all, but strangely, she thinks she'll like it this way.

The song ends and they let go of one another, moving to the side of the room again.

"Thank you for the dance," Longbottom says, and it's clearly his dance tutor's words and not his. He ducks his head, embarrassed over nothing. He doesn't have anything to be ashamed of, not today. Tomorrow will come soon enough, with Professor Snape's sneers and Longbottom's general incompetence.

"You're welcome," Pansy replies.

She turns around and walks the length of the floor to the exit, half expecting Longbottom to call her back. He doesn't, and when she looks back, he's gone. Something like disappointment runs through her, but she tells herself she's not living in a romance novel.

After all, romance heroines don't beat attractive young men at wizard's chess, and that's exactly what she's going to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Complete; no sequel planned.


End file.
